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Sons of Gildor Part II
Part 1 Part 3 Pillars of marble framed the circumference of the ebony stone room. Gold trim adorned the column capitals like crowns; vast paintings of Gildorian conquest sprawled the ceiling’s face. The western wall fell away to reveal stained glass that peppered the room in fragments of hued light. The Duchal Conclave met here. This was to be the sight of democracy, of wisdom, of informed decision. On this day, however, the Conclave had fallen apart. Seven men hurled insults like javelins, their minor grievances with one another inflated to epic proportions. At the head of the round table was seated Nashuss Khal, powerless to stop the screaming men's tirades. Opposite him sat Tigahn, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. Also sat amongst their number was Danith Khal (Nashuss’ son) and Duke of Greenwater, Levi Albion, Duke of Valrose, Addison Salz, Duke of Warden’s Gate, Althar Aramyr, Duke of Westhome, and the newly present Sigurd Alston, Duke of Baskerburg. These Seven Sons of Gildor waged linguistic war against one another, though the threat of true civil unrest was all but realized. “I will have order!” Nashuss screamed. He pounded his fists into the intricately carved oaken table as hard as his age would allow. The other Dukes quieted their onslaughts, though they eyed one another like vicious dogs. “When last the Conclave convened, we were nearly unanimous in our decision to elect me to the role of steward,” Nashuss said, his voice coarse from days of haggard blaring. “However, since then Tigahn has seen fit to poison my credibility.” He stared down the Duke of Highkeep, only the respect of tradition keeping the two men from each other’s throats. “Only partly,” Althar said. “After all, Nashuss, there are many errors you have made while steward of this fine country. I believe you both are at fault, and neither of you should have any claim to this throne.” “Ha,” Levi said, his voice crooning, “and you think you would do any better? Nashuss at least has the foresight to keep that ‘Lidiya’ out of our borders. You would see fit to welcome her, and her undead cohorts, into Gildor with open arms. I must say, old bean, you truly are a spectacle.” “Shove it,” Althar spat. “Not all of us have the luxury of a fresh city built within the last Age to govern. I merely stand by the reasoning that Lidiya’s influence would bring numbers, workers, coin back to Gildor.” “You’re ignoring the real problem,” Sigurd said, his voice the sound of cobblestone and scraping bark, “and that problem is the Heresy that has spread. Nashuss has done so little to support my men in curbing the voraciousness of these heathens.” Sigurd slammed his mug on to the table with a growl, shattering it with surprising strength. “Where are my Wolfknights, Nashuss?” The Dukes rallied behind that statement, a first for this forsaken meeting. Indeed, they all were curious where their aid had gone. Nashuss took turns biting them with his eyes, each one challenging his authority save for Tigahn, who looked off beyond the stained-glass windows. “Until this issue of leadership can be resolved,” Nashuss said, “the bulk of the Wolfknights will remain here in Leva Adium.” “Why?” Addison said, his quiet mannerisms yielding to his burning passion. No other Duke had such booming a voice as he; he commanded the room. “Because,” Nashuss said, “we are weaker now than ever before. Larkenvale could march an assault on our borders tomorrow and we need the Wolfknights unified and ready.” “You’re a coward,” Addison said. “And I suppose you would place your hand in the running for steward, then?” Nashuss said with verbal fangs. “No,” Addison said with a chuckle. “No one else knows how to run the Gate like I do. If I left now so I could sign papers in a pomp palace, Gildor would be flooded with Rhivician terror within a week. No, my steward, I will remain in the north.” “Enough!” the young Danith spoke at last. “Why do you hound my father so? Do you not see the trials with which he is faced? To live up to the names of Whitefang and Aurhowm is a nigh impossible task for any one! Not only that, the Godswalk has all but plunged Lancerus into turmoil. We need to stand united, not divided, as a country of brothers!” “And what brother,” Sigured howled, “would condemn his kin to be feast for cultists wolves so that he could hide away in his bastions? I say enough of this ‘gentle diplomacy’ approach. Let a true man lead us. Let not our words be our swords but our swords be our swords.” He gestured to the silent Tigahn. “My sword fights for Tigahn.” Addison nodded in approval. The other Dukes waited breathlessly for the response. “It seems,” Tigahn said with sullen eyes, “that the fresh Duke trusts an old soul to lead this country to a clear future. Nashuss, I must ask, what are your plans for the Cult of the Five? For the Hand of Men?” “We will dissuade them from- “ “Dissuade?” Tigahn said, his form swelling like a thunder cloud. “You cannot dissuade terrorists. You can only talk with them in a language they understand: steel. While you foozle diplomacy with the southern kingdoms, our allies in the West are dying because you lack the nerve to mobilize. I have already sent hundreds of men from my own domain into Oden. Even with the threat of orcs only growing, I have found ways to ease the burdens on my kin. If we lose Oden, Larkenvale will take us.” “Do you think I do not know this?” Nashuss roared. “There is more to ruling then simply pointing a sword at some other bastard and hacking about!” “This is the Godswalk, dear Nashuss,” Tigahn said. “There has never been a better time for hacking.” ……… The discourse raged for hours. They spoke of War, of the Whitefang (a truly temperamental subject) and the Godswalk. They grew fond of hating each other. Soon the room grew dull with the promise of sunset; the men longed for reprieve. At the dusk of their discussion, Levi took the center. “We must vote,” he said. “We will not make any more progress in this way. Men, who will-“ “No.” All eyes turned to Nashuss. “What was that?” Levi asked, hoping he had heard wrong. “There will be no vote,” Nashuss said. “We are broken, we are divided, and removing me from power without true warrant to do so will only break us further.” The other Dukes began to squint in confusion. Was Nashuss really implying what they feared? “Nashuss,” Althyr said, “you do not have the authority…” “Do I not?” Nashuss said. “I have as much authority as the country requires me. Now, more than ever, I must do as my heart commands.” He stood from his seat, his face stern with the resolve of gods. “The Throne remains with me.” “You cannot!” Levi roused with anger. “How- how dare you! You spit on our country with your blasphemy.” “Silence!” Nashuss screamed. “Too long have my enemies chanted of my inability to take action. Well, here is your action. Until this kingdom is once again safe, I, Nashuss Khal, son of Natharin Khal, do hereby dismantle the authority of the Conclave and place full power with myself.” The Dukes flew from their seats, hands trembling for the swords at their side. Tigahn remained sitting, his smile broad and genuine. Danith stood by his father, ready to defend his honor. “I would see you dead before I let this happen, Khal,” Sigurd said through gnashing teeth. “You are not my King.” “Until further notice,” Nashuss said, paying him no mind, “any Duke or servants of Dukes that marches at Leva Adium with a number greater than 10 will be seen as an act of war. I will allow you all 24 hours to leave the city with your escorts. After that, any Duke that remains here will be subjected to the Law.” Addison shouted a battlecry and lunged for Nashuss. Wolfknights, like vigilant shadows, appeared seemingly from thin air and subdued the old Duke. The others watched as the most noble among them plummeted to the floor, his sword arm torn from Wolfknight steel. “Stand with me,” Nashuss said. “Or die.” Category:World Lore